“You don’t believe what he is saying? You don’t believe God will put us in fire to burn forever and ever?”
“I seen a lynching once,” Scipio replied. “It were just like that, they poured on oil.”
“Oh, don’t,” Hazel gasped. She seized his arm with her two hands; “don’t,” she cried.
After a moment she whispered, “But it didn’t last forever. He died?”
“Yes, ma’am. He died.”
“And wicked men burned him, and it was only for a few minutes. God wouldn’t make him burn forever and ever.”
“Don’t you fret,” said Scipio. She had let go of his arm, but he knew that she was trembling. “They-all is sure they’ll get off. They’s sure the devil won’t catch them. There’s my pa, he ain’t done a stroke of work this week. Been crazy drunk. But he’s got religion. Hear him holler!”
“I don’t believe it’s like that, Scip,” Hazel said very earnestly. “Religion is being good and honest and pure in heart.”
A man approached the children as they stood a little apart from the throng about the door.
“Howdy, little ’un,” he leered, lounging up to Hazel. “You’s a pretty trick.”